


Dinnertime

by Daegaer



Series: Travel Companions [3]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Saiyuki
Genre: Crossover, Demons, Dinner, Food, Gen, Monks, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-27
Updated: 2006-01-27
Packaged: 2018-02-14 15:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2197566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sanzo eats dinner with a lone traveller who seems to know too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinnertime

**Author's Note:**

  * For [louise_lux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/louise_lux/gifts).



"Hey, look at that guy!" Goku said, pointing to the man sitting by himself. His table was covered with dishes of food into which he poked exploratory chopsticks. "How come he gets so much food and we have to wait _ages_ for our dinner? Huh, Sanzo?"

"Shut up," Sanzo said by reflex, trying to concentrate on his paper.

Goku, of course, did not shut up. Hakkai did his best to calm things down with boring, pointless teacherly stories about why it was generally considered impolite to go to complete strangers' tables and steal their shredded duck, while Gojyo did his best to ask every single passer-by if they thought Goku's continual hunger might indicate he had worms. He was getting inventive about the possible source for said putative worms (not _too_ inventive: the inn in the last village that Goku hadn't realised was a brothel tended to figure highly in his musings) when Sanzo had enough.

Sanzo carefully folded his paper till it seemed adequately stiff, administered a few sharp, painful whacks to Goku, Gojyo and Hakkai for good measure (as always, the blows directed at Hakkai seemed to slide off and land on the others instead), stood up and walked over to the other side of the room.

"Anyone sitting here?" he snapped, pointing the paper at the chair opposite the solitary diner.

"No," the man said.

"Good," Sanzo said in the sort of tone of voice that indicated he hadn't cared much one way or the other, and sat down, flicking his paper open to the sports pages once more. Blessed silence reigned, with only the peaceful sound of turning pages, chopsticks in bowls and Hakkai forbidding Goku to cross the room to be heard. Finally, after Sanzo had exhausted the pleasures of the sports section, had his blood pressure raised by the idiocy of the readers' letters, snorted at the opinion columns and been forced to actually turn to the news section he heard a polite clearing of a very polite throat.

"What do you want?" he said, not taking his eyes from the paper.

"They've brought our dinner," Hakkai said.

Sanzo flicked a glance over at Gojyo attempting to stuff five dumplings at once into Goku's mouth. It did nothing to stop Goku talking.

"I'm fine where I am," he said. After a moment or two, Hakkai went away. After another moment or two he heard the sound of porcelain being shoved across the table.

"I have plenty," his hitherto silent table partner said. "Help yourself, if you want."

Sanzo peered at him over the top of his reading glasses. The man grinned in a cheerful, I-share-my-dinner-with-antisocial-bastards-all-the-time way, shoving his dark glasses further up his nose. Sanzo decided to ignore him, but then the smell of the pork char sui drifted up.

"Hhn," Sanzo said, picking up the extra pair of chopsticks he hadn't noticed beside his place. The food was delicious, and still hot.

"Are you meant to eat meat?" the man said curiously.

"What's it to you?" Sanzo said, mouth full.

"Hey, it's not my business. I just thought Buddhist priests -- you are a Buddhist priest, right?"

"What's it to you?"

The man laughed and shoved over what was left of the honeyed spare ribs, duck with plum sauce and General Tso's chicken. Sanzo found he had more of an appetite than he'd expected. It was all so good - much better than his gang of idiots seemed to be eating.

"Wine?"

"D'you have any beer?" Sanzo said indistinctly. It was astonishing and gratifying the man understood him. He snapped his fingers, and the waitress brought an unfamiliar bottle right over. "Whazzat?" Sanzo said, chewing the last mouthful of the satay and heaping rice into his bowl.

"It's Belgian. Brewed by monks," the man said with a little laugh. "If you'd prefer that American piss your friends are drinking --"

Sanzo tasted it dubiously. "No, s'fine," he said, hanging on to the bottle for dear life. "Why the hell are you giving me your dinner anyway?" he went on, some sense managing to make its way past the urge to keep eating.

"It's too much for me," the man said, brushing invisible lint from one dark sleeve. "I ordered for two out of habit. It's embarrassing, really. I forgot my usual dinner partner wouldn't be joining me." He paused, then said, "He's in India. Probably stuffing himself silly with curries right this moment. I'm sure he'll feed you too, when you get there."

Sanzo went cold and took out his gun. "Who said we're going to India?" he snarled.

The man didn't seem very worried. "Your monkey said something about dying to try pilau rice," he said.

"Huh," Sanzo said, reluctantly putting the gun away again. He shot a sharp glance at the man. "How'd you know he's a monkey?"

"I've got very good eyesight," the man said, pushing his glasses up again. "I see a lot more than most people ever will, Genjo Sanzo. But I'm here mainly on holiday, and you needn't worry about me."

He looked mostly normal, but what Sanzo could see of his eyes through the dark lenses was anything but ordinary, and the slight lisp had a certain quality of ancient scales slipping over each other.

"You're not effected by the minus wave," Sanzo said flatly.

"I'm not a youkai," the man said. "Would you like dessert?"

Sanzo ignored him, his appetite entirely gone. "Did Kanzeon send you, then?" he said.

The man laughed, a genuine cheerful laugh. "Oh, no. I answer to someone completely different. Like I said, you don't have to worry about me. You look up my friend when you're in India - I'm sure you won't be able to avoid him - and he'll give you dinner too. Neither of us is going to go after _you_. You get to work things out on your own."

Sanzo pulled the trigger, and blinked. His gun was still in the waistband of his jeans. He was standing at an empty table. He looked around and saw everyone in the room eating, or playing cards or mah-jong. No one was looking his way at all. He went over to the others, finding them quiet at last, eating their way steadily through a wide variety of dishes.

"Sanzo!" Goku said happily. "Look, I didn't let Gojyo eat your dinner!"

"Hey, I was the one saving it for him," Gojyo said.

Sanzo sat and stared at the table. They had barely begun eating. He'd been at the other table for long enough for them to have finished.

"Sanzo, some soup?" Hakkai said, indicating the little bowl.

"No. I'm not hungry," Sanzo said.

" _San_ zo! You have to _eat_ ," Goku said, as if Sanzo had just announced he was going to starve himself to death.

Reluctantly Sanzo picked up his chopsticks and took a tiny amount of rice. They all smiled at him like he was a clever boy, and he'd lifted a weight from their shoulders. Shrugging, Sanzo reached across the table and picked up another dish. If him eating kept them quiet . . .

The char sui was delicious.


End file.
